Chapter 2
I sat there calmly, looking at him lightly.
Timothy strode over and pushed me away. He was so violent that he pushed me to the ground.
My forehead hit the bookcase, and I frowned in pain.
Timothy didn’t care whether I was injured or not. He sorted out his drawers and said without turning his head, “How many times have I told you not to touch my things? Did you become deaf as you grew old?”
His words are always so hurtful. I didn’t care about it before, thinking he was just cold and sharp–tongued.
But after watching the dashcam today, I didn’t think so.
It turned out that this cold man could also be gentle and considerate, but not to me.
My heart wrenched, and I thought I would cry, but I shed no
tears.
“You’re right. I’m old and deaf, and now I’m blind too.”
I was so blind that I couldn’t tell what kind of person the husband I had spent decades with was.
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Hearing this, Timothy finally couldn’t help but look back at me.
He said with displeasure, “What’s wrong with you?”
I was about to speak when I suddenly heard Jason crying outside.
I stood up and walked out, while Timothy said indifferently, “It’s about dinner time. You should make dinner.”
Somehow, I suddenly remembered what I had heard the most in
recent years.
“Betty, you married a capable and good man.”
“Betty, don’t go to work anymore. A woman should stay at home to take care of her husband and child.”
“Betty, you are really good at cooking. From now on, you are in charge of the kitchen.”
“Betty, remember to clean the house after doing the dishes.”
“Betty, the baby is crying bitterly. Come over and feed the baby after you finish cleaning up.”
“Betty, the kid’s clothes are torn. It costs a lot to buy them new clothes. Just mend them yourself.”
“Betty, my mom’s legs are aching. Take her to the hospital.”
Gradually, my child also got married and started his own
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careers.
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“Mom, I just got married. Please don’t make things difficult for my wife.”
“Mom, your cooking is getting worse and worse, and you can’t even mop the floor clean. We might as well hire a housekeeper.”
“Mom, we are too busy at work. Please pick up the kids from now on.”
“Mom, I’ve told you so many times not to let the kids use cell phones. It did harm to their eyes.”
Before long, my child’s child also gradually grew up.
“Grandma, I can’t sleep. Please tell me a story.”
“Grandma, I want to go out and play. Carry me on your
back.”
“Grandma, I want to play the horse–riding game. Please be my horse.”
Unconsciously, I grew old and became the object of dislike.
“Betty, can you stop spending money recklessly? Do you really need to spend so much money on groceries?”
“If you feel unwell, go to the hospital by yourself. Don’t you have legs?”
“Don’t act like you have a hard life every day. I’ve supported the
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family for most of my life and never let you work a single day. Cooking won’t kill you.”
“You don’t need new clothes at your age. Go throw the garbage.”
These voices flashed through my mind.
As a woman, I really shouldn’t think too much. As I thought about the past, I found my efforts worthless.
My husband, my son, my husband’s mother, my son’s wife, and even my grandson, who needed me all the time—to all of them, I was not even worth as much as a nanny, who could at least get paid.
As soon as I walked outside, my son William Watson and his wife Monica Watson came back.
As soon as they got in, they heard Jason crying, and Monica ran into the bedroom anxiously.
William complained with a gloomy face, “Mom, didn’t you hear Jason crying? If we hadn’t come back, were you going to let him cry all the time?”
I didn’t say anything.
At that time, Monica came out with Jason in her arms and said in displeasure, “Betty, Jason is hungry. Hurry up and cook. We are all exhausted all day, and we can’t even have dinner when we get home.”
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William agreed casually, “I should have agreed to go to Wendy’s place for dinner.”
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